This is my psychiatrist's couch. Take from it what you will.
But do leave a note.
I still am a late middle aged former government worker marking time until the cliff.
Short Fiction, Doggerel and Insensitive Opinion are spoken here.
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Sunday, November 9, 2014

Monday, Monday....(Blogophilia 38.7)

Monday, Monday.

Can’t trust that day…

7:00 AM and the bullpen was a beehive of activity. Weak
sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to invigorate everyone. Phones
ringing and message systems pinging, it was a far cry from the late Saturday
night, where it was a silent as a funeral in a hard Kentucky rain. The captain
was true to his word and left him alone Sunday to get some sleep. He was back
with a clear mind a cup of extra strong coffee. Jackson had beaten him in and
waved when he cleared the hallway.

“Nice way to start the day.” Sitting down, Murray took a sip
out of the cup and winced. He opened the notebook to a clean page.

“Let me have it.”

“Diego Rodriguez Aguirre, 23, a Salvadoran National here
illegally. Has convictions for weapons and narcotics possession. Last arrest
was for loitering with intent on Jimmy Carter in January. FTA warrant out of
Dekalb for a misdemeanor assault. Last known address was a dump in Chamblee.
Does have a prior address at the Graves, though.”

Murray scratched at his ear as he listed the information. It
was too early to hear this jackass bray, even though what he was saying was
good. Jackson pulled out another piece of paper and continued.

“Get this. The Emergency Contact Probation has on file is a
Sister, Maria Aguirre Torres. The phone number listed comes back disconnected.
But her last known address is in the complex in Doraville that Witch Hazel
showed in her scare piece. “

Eyes rising at the last statement, Murray kept writing the
notes.

“That’s interesting. We’ll go there this afternoon.
Meanwhile, You, me and the Cap are gonna hang here with Artie for a bit.”
Jackson’s face crinkled as if he had opened a sewer.

Turning back a couple of pages, Murray continued.

“I did catch him over the weekend for a quick briefing,
though. Their first victim happened back in November. Female, young and with
the Tattoo. Found dumped on the side of Pleasantdale right at the county line.
One GSW upper torso. She was unidentified for quite a while like our hooker,
apparently never got into the system. They now have a tentative ID, waiting on
notification before releasing.”

Second victim was in April. Female with the Tattoo, but they
got lucky with her. She had a shoplifting arrest out of Cobb County. Her name
was Felicia Nagodoches, 18 and a Salvadoran. She was also found on
Pleasantdale, but in one of the complexes a little further down toward Tucker.”

“The third victim was found Wednesday in Doraville. He’s
male. They don’t have an official ID on him yet, so he may be a recent arrival
that hasn’t had a chance to get into the system.”

Murray drained his cup.

“When all the tattoos matched, the Homicide commander called
for the cavalry in the form of Artie. When he saw the second girl’s record,
Artie got smart and called the gang unit out in Cobb and hit pay dirt. Bella Paloma is a group from a village
in the mountains northeast of San Salvador. They began showing up in Cobb
about four years ago. They are primarily into the prostitution, specializing in
young girls. Artie may have a bit more info for us on this one. The meeting is
at 9:30, so I’m guess we’ll hit the phones from now until then. Do we have an
ETA on the autopsy?”

Jackson clicked a couple keys and turned his head towards
his screen. “Not yet, but Captain put a bug in the ME’s office to make it
priority. Did we have any other body calls this weekend?”

“Only an old lady found in her living room over in Snellville.
Looks natural, so Diego will probably go first at the table. Maybe a usable
slug will turn up.”

“We can only hope.” And with that, Jackson picked up his
phone and called up to Crime Scene to see if their report was finished.

Murray decided to spend a couple of minutes putting his mind
to rest. He quickly typed the name into the statewide database and hit enter
before he could stop himself. A couple of seconds later, the record for Jeremy
Allen came up. He was now 27. The Murder and Arson charges didn’t show here
because they had been handled in Juvenile Court. But there was a reference
listed. He apparently was released about six months ago from Regional Hospital.
A couple of minor scrapes since then. Last known address was an apartment in
Buckhead. How could he afford that?

He then pulled up the registration on the Toyota, a 1996,
Beige Camry that was indeed registered to Jeremy Allen. A couple of parking
tickets and one speeding ticket associated with it. Surprised there wasn’t a
brawl for that, given his love for the Police. All the tickets were from
earlier than any of the current events, so it may have just been a coincidence
he was there. Too early to tell, though. We’ll just file this and see if any
other connections come up.

He then typed in Bella
Paloma. There was a bit more information out there since he had looked
during the Hooker’s murder, mostly confirming Artie Gomez’s take. Diego’s name showed
up about half way down the report. Apparently, he was a mid level runner,
coordinating the pickup and drop off of girls from one location to another.

But he wasn’t the
actual pimp. That was a fellow with the street name of ElPotro. He was still
based in El Salvador and would only show up in Atlanta when it was time to
collect the money. He was described as a short, stocky man that liked Stetson
hats and fancy boots. He would fly in and Diego would be in charge of getting
him from place to place.

The girls were mostly
the daughters of people who owed El Potro
money.They were given the choice: the
girls or their lives. And more than once, they parents were killed anyway once
the girls were gone, so there wouldn’t be anything for them to across the miles to return to.

Murray began to daydream across the miles to the village
these folks were escaping from. They were so far from home, yet so firmly tied
there through the threat of violence.

“Murray. It’s time.”

Captain’s voice broke the spell. Maybe he can focus on
something else.

_________________________________________________________________

Topic-Dave Rader (Whatever happened to him?)

Pic-Linda Thurmond.

Pic Guesses: Long and winding road. Miles and miles, Country roads, Across the meadow, Homeward bound.